Their Last Night
by mealz
Summary: Buffy spends what could be her final night with Spike and reflects on their burgeoning relationship. Takes place around the time of the Season 7 final episode 'End of Days'.


**Author's Note: **Okay so this is my first attempt at a story, I did it pretty quickly but I hope you guys like :) It takes place the night before the final battle with the First.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer characters. The poem is by Lord Byron and is called Remind me not, remind me not.

'You really think we can do this pet? Not that I don't have complete faith in you but you haven't been much with the positivity of late.' Spike's head is slightly cocked, his eyes deep, considering me. It's something he does a lot, even before this latest apocalypse. He's looking, but it's more than that, he's seeing every single inch of me. It used to unnerve me, make my skin tingle, before I understood it. Now it feels like warmth, acceptance and trust. My skin still tingles, just in an altered way, like a change in a radio frequency. I'm completely open to him despite my attempts to isolate myself and I'm okay with that. Weird, huh? I've started to contemplate just how far we've come. It's probably the impending doomyness, makes a girl appreciate what she's got.

I lift my hand to cup his cheek, a small smile breaking the serious Buffy facial setting, if only for a second. "I'm not saying it will be easy, anything but. It will be hard, terrifying, earth shattering. But...yeah, I'm starting to believe the world won't end. Do you think I'm crazy? You wouldn't be the first" I joke. My eyes meet his with this; it's the lamest attempt at humour ever, but hey! When facing oblivion all you can do is stare it down with a smile on your face. Confidence counts for a lot when you're in the slayage biz. Buffy Summers pearl of wisdom number 17. Huh I wonder what the others would be, 'find a good dry cleaner' maybe?...Spike interrupts my inner monologue with a snort of a laugh. "No," he says. "Wonderful? Strong? Courageous? Yes. But not crazy. Oh and don't forget you're not a bad looking lass." He smiles, his eyebrow arches. It's his playful face, but looking at it makes my chest tighten. I've barely begun to explore this new man and maybe after tomorrow...well maybe I won't get the chance. No. Spike is strong, he's a champion, and he _has_ to make it through. He always does.

He senses my shift in mood and registers the concern on my face. In response he sits up, moving so his back no longer rests on the wall of the basement, the one his cot is pushed firmly against. His body turns so that it as though I'm his center of gravity. Tentatively, he leans in towards me, his eyes never leaving mine, questioning the boundaries of our new relationship. He's no more than an inch away from my face when he speaks. "I've never been happier than I have these past few days." It's whispered, but it holds such finality, that I feel like crying. I see what he's trying to say, 'if tomorrows my last day then it's ok, I'll go out happy'.

I close the gap between us without hesitation, because this feels _right_. Spike's lips against my own is a feeling of familiarity and belonging. Yet, there is a subtle difference. The hunger of our romantic past is subdued, not gone but not in control. It is replaced by a sense of home, he is mine and I am his. It's not like it was with Angel, because let's face it nothing will be, but it's not less than that either. It's new and shiny and it fills me up inside.

It doesn't go further than kissing. It doesn't need to; we did the whole physical relationship thing so it doesn't feel like a necessary part of what we're trying to say to each other. We've moved beyond it, and although I know it would be different now, sweeter and whole lot more meaningful, I'm scared to lose what we just found. This strong depth of emotion, this connection...hell, it's what's been getting me through each minute of these constant feelings of fear and inadequacy. Later, I lie next to him, inhaling his scent, memorising. Funny. Underneath his usual smell of cigarettes and leather is another scent, one that I realise is more inherent to Spike. I imagine he still smelt like this when he was human, of soap and old books. It's a curious combination but to me it's almost heavenly. "Careful love. You're starting to act like one now. Sniffing like that." Spike's cheekbones rise, making his mouth form a roguish grin. I make a derisive snort and reply; "I'm not doing it in a gross way like a vamp. You're all 'I can tell what you had for breakfast yesterday'. You guys really know what a girl likes to hear." "Oh come on! I told you I was bloody joking!...Oatmeal?"

"It's choc full of nutritiony goodness. Maybe after we save the world they'll put me on the box?"

"They'd definitely see an increase in sales if they did."

"Yeah, I could be all; 'Oatmeal...the breakfast of a champion slayer!'"

"Nice l'il mug shot of you holding a spoon like a stake..."

After a while it gets harder and harder to stay cheery, we can both feel our time together slipping away. I wonder what I want from our last moments together and I pick up on one wish.

"Spike, will you recite something for me? Poetry I mean." He looks slightly startled by this request; I see it as a way to see into his new soul, into the human man he used to be. I'm asking him to do something incredibly intimate but he agrees. I watch as his jaw tenses, he runs his tongue over his teeth in contemplation of what poem to choose. Finally he opens his mouth, still hesitant. His low voice begins to speak and it gives life to words that would, to me, seem meaningless on paper.

"_Remind me not, remind me not, _

_Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours, _

_When all my soul was given to thee; _

_Hours that may never be forgot, _

_Till Time unnerves our vital powers, _

_And thou and I shall cease to be. _

_Can I forget-canst thou forget, _

_When playing with thy golden hair, _

_How quick thy fluttering heart did move? _

_Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet, _

_With eyes so languid, breast so fair, _

_And lips, though silent, breathing love. _

_When thus reclining on my breast, _

_Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet, _

_As half reproach'd yet rais'd desire, _

_And still we near and nearer prest, _

_And still our glowing lips would meet, _

_As if in kisses to expire. _

_And then those pensive eyes would close, _

_And bid their lids each other seek, _

_Veiling the azure orbs below; _

_While their long lashes' darken'd gloss _

_Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek, _

_Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow. _

_I dreamt last night our love return'd, _

_And, sooth to say, that very dream _

_Was sweeter in its phantasy, _

_Than if for other hearts I burn'd, _

_For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam _

_In Rapture's wild reality. _

_Then tell me not, remind me not, _

_Of hours which, though for ever gone, _

_Can still a pleasing dream restore, _

_Till Thou and I shall be forgot, _

_And senseless, as the mouldering stone _

_Which tells that we shall be no more. _"

I'm floored, I feel as though he's just given me a piece of himself. "It's one I used to read when you were gone, when you were...dead." Spike stumbles on the last word, as though it is hard for him to relive that time. I snuggle in closer, pushing my head underneath his own and laying a gentle kiss on his collarbone. He sighs and it is a noise full of content. Whatever tomorrow brings, I feel better knowing he will be by my side. Neither of us will be distracted with worry for the other, but we will feel each other's presence and take strength from the certainty that in death or life we are not alone. My heart is full of him, because he _sees _me. As my eyes close for what may be my final sleep and my consciousness starts to slip into the realm of dreams I think I feel him press a cool kiss to my lips and whisper "You're the one Buffy. I love you." Then we rest.


End file.
